The Importance of Opposing Forces, or The Peacock and The Raven
by Warrior of Ice
Summary: Two unlikely companions set off on a journey together to fulfill a mission for their king. AU, Rei, Zoisite. Written for Ficathon 2013.


**Title**: The Importance of Opposing Forces, or The Peacock and The Raven

**Description**: Two unlikely companions set off on a journey together to fulfill a mission for their king.

**A/N**: 2 of 2 fics written for Ficathon 2013. AU, Rei, Zoisite. More in the vein of _A Year in Gold and Rubies_ and _Letters from __Karchesa_, although the worlds don't intersect.

**Theme:** non-couple interaction.

* * *

_The Importance of Opposing Forces, or The Peacock and The Raven_

* * *

The field was filled with the shouts and grunts of warriors as they grappled with each other. But underneath the mayhem of arms punching forward, legs scissoring out, and bodies being hurled this way and that lay organized chaos. Each fighter's tactics differed, but they all had the same purpose: _Bring your opponent down_.

A slender figure was efficiently working her way from the center knot of combatants out to the periphery. Like the others, she wore an undyed tunic and trousers. A streamer of scarlet cloth, several shades brighter than the blood dripping onto the field, held her hair back. Nimbly sidestepping the foot that aimed to trip her, she raised an arm to shield her eyes as gobbets of foul-smelling mud flew by her head. She felt some of them squelch into her hair and onto her back but ignored them in favor of the man who bore down on her, grinning viciously. The top of her head was just about level with his shoulders and he looked as if he outweighed her by a good fifteen stone, but she was faster. When he landed with a loud splat, sending mud geysering everywhere, she revised her estimate of his weight upwards.

A familiar sequence of trumpet notes brought the messy exercise to an end. The general had decided that last night's thunderstorm and the resultant disgusting conditions of the training yards were a golden opportunity. They couldn't waste this chance to practice hand-to-hand combat in suboptimal fighting conditions. He was right, of course – all of them were much sloppier and less effective fighting in the sludge than on nice, dry ground – but it didn't mean she had to like it.

She hated the feel of mud oozing down her collar in cool, gritty fingers, but she didn't even wipe the smudges from her face. It was fine for the men to do it, but when any of the women showed a dislike of getting dirty, they were teased for being fastidious, finicky, and fussy. That went double for her, descended from one of the oldest aristocratic lines in the kingdom and a more recently ennobled house that was making a name for itself in politics.

As she stood at ease, waiting for the signal that would release them to the baths, a slight prickling along the hairs of her neck made her extend her attention beyond the fenced-in yard. There – two men stood on the west side of the field, watching the action. The one with dark hair leaned on the rails, while the other stood well back. She didn't blame him, given the gorgeous, peacock blue robe he was wearing, its gold embroideries matching the brightness of his hair.

What she did object to was the appraising look in his eyes. She scowled at him, daring the soft-handed courtier in his criminally expensive clothes to pass judgment on her.

When he only smiled back, showing a flash of white teeth, she switched her gaze quickly to the other man, who inclined his head to her slightly. She nodded back, ignoring his irritating companion. When the king was dressed in a plain blue tunic and black trousers, his goal was to pass among his subjects if not anonymously, then with as little disturbance to their routine as possible. The only ornament he wore was the heavy gold ring set with twin sapphires that had been passed down his line for centuries. It would leave his finger only when he was dead. Which shouldn't be for a long time, since he was just her age. She had turned twenty-five two months ago. But these were troubled times, and there were many, too many, who thought an earlier death for the king would be expedient.

* * *

She resisted to the urge to stomp down the beautifully tiled hallway, but only because she had just stomped down the five corridors and three flights of stairs connecting this wing to the king's private study. The king's mother had just redone the ambassadorial wing in a white-veined rose marble with copper accents. Ordinarily she would have been pleased to have the chance to see it, but today she was in no mood to admire its beauty.

She came to a stop before one of the suites along the middle of the hallway, not the largest but certainly not the smallest, either. Of course, size was all relative – a family of eight could have lived comfortably in a "small" apartment in this wing. She took a deep breath, then rapped smartly on the door.

Upon hearing her name and rank, the servant who answered the door stood back and let her in. She was expected.

She was used to noticing people's approximate height and weight, the way they moved, whether they carried any weapons, and so on. The mental cataloguing had become almost subconscious. But she couldn't help but notice that the girl was arrestingly lovely.

This was quickly pushed from her mind, however, as she took in her surroundings. Her jaw didn't quite drop, but it was an embarrassingly close thing.

There were mirrors everywhere, cut into the shapes of diamonds, trefoils, and several-pointed stars. They captured the tawny sunlight pouring in from the wide open windows and reflected it back onto highly polished silver vases and candleholders. The jewel tones of the cushions and wall hangings were a feast for the eyes, resplendent with bronze, turquoise, crimson, and emerald hues. Instead of being overwhelmed by the rest of the room, the sheer white material of the gauzy curtains served to accentuate it. Somewhere scented candles or incense burned, bringing notes of sandalwood, citrus, and pomegranate to her nose. The wooden screens dividing the sitting area into intimate nooks were delicately carved, bearing scenes of chariot races, heroic feats, and seductions.

All of it, even the seductions, was done in the height of fashion, but even more importantly, with impeccable taste. She was no stranger to wealth and luxury, but what had been achieved here stole her breath away. Her father and probably several other members of the court would have killed to know who had overseen the decorating of these rooms, so they could steal them away into their own service.

She came to stop by a bubbling fountain, in which a lotus plant bearing a single white bud rested on the blue and green tiles. She set her jaw, expecting to be kept waiting for at least a quarter hour, but it was only a minute before the blond-haired man from that morning strolled into the room, dressed in yet another gorgeous robe. This one was pure white, and she couldn't begin to imagine how many dozens of hours it had taken some poor seamstress to do the gold embroidery glittering on the hems.

"Greetings, Captain. Or should it be Lady Reina?" he asked as she sketched a short bow.

It wasn't the first time she'd been asked that question, but she had distinct impression that inside, he was laughing at her. "Captain will do. I have renounced that title."

"Ah, but has it renounced you?" he murmured. Definitely laughing.

Rei narrowed her eyes. "My lord, I understand we'll be undertaking a journey to the Western Reaches. As the captain of your guard for this journey, I expect you to treat all the members of our entourage with respect and comport yourself in a way that will allow us to ensure your safety and security at all times."

"Meaning you don't want me to ask them any personal questions. Or is that only you? Not that _I_ think it's a personal question, of course; the political ramifications of your so-called 'renouncement' should be apparent to anyone with eyes, but you clearly see it as a private matter."

She set her lips in a firm line. "Lord Zohar–"

"Just Zohar will do," he interrupted her, smiling genially. "We should begin as we mean to go on, don't you think?"

She had her doubts about that. Within only minutes of meeting him, she already felt like slapping the sneer off his face every time he opened his mouth.

He frowned at her lack of response. "Endy _did_ explain this mission to you, didn't he?"

"Of course he did!" She resented the familiarity with which he spoke of the king.

Zohar shrugged, stirring his fingers in the cool waters of fountain. "I have my doubts as to whether you can pull it off, but Endy seems to think you can do it."

Her voice was icy. "Then why don't you request someone else?"

"Oh, no, what would be the fun in that?"

"This isn't a game."

"Of course it's a game." Zohar's green eyes were bright with the kind of passion that General Kyran reserved for particularly fine weapons. "The most exciting, most dangerous game in the world, really. It gets my blood running more than sport, and nearly as much as sleeping with other men's wives."

"You're vile and vulgar," Rei informed him.

He threw up his hands. "See! This is never going to work. You probably blush when you dance with a man – not that you've been doing much dancing lately."

She ignored the jab. Dancing was one of the few things she had enjoyed about court – when it was done with a good partner, anyway. "It wouldn't be so difficult if you weren't so despicable."

He moved close to her, so close she could feel his breath on her skin and the warmth of his body, but she refused to step back. He smiled softly, disarmingly, and his hand came to rest a hair from her cheek. If he'd touched her, she could have knocked his arm aside.

"There's such fire in you. I could make you fall in love with me, but you wouldn't like it."

Her lip curled, but before she could deliver a scathing retort, he sighed and stepped back. "You really are quite beautiful, even when you're wrestling in the mud. Perhaps you'll be able to pull it off, after all."

She moved towards the door. "I'm telling him you want someone else."

"But I don't," Zohar said, laughing again, all the unsettling intensity gone from his face.

"Then I'm telling him _I _don't want to go."

"You won't do that."

"Why not?" she demanded.

He walked over to the window. "Because neither of us want to disappoint him, and he needs this mission to go well."

"We leave two hours before daybreak."

"Two hours past."

He didn't even turn from the window, and she felt ridiculous arguing with his back. "Are you going to fight with me about everything?"

"Only the important things. Well, some of the trivial things, too, but only when I feel that it'll be good for you. This is one of the important things. Shall we compromise and say daybreak, Captain?"

"Fine. We pass through the gates _exactly_ at daybreak, and not a second later."

"As you wish. Good evening, Captain."

With that, she was dismissed.

* * *

That night, she was back in the room she shared with three other women in the barracks, which was probably smaller than Zohar's bathroom, packing her things.

"So, what's he like?" Marien, who would be coming with them, asked eagerly as she rolled up her own clothes.

_Rude and vain_. No, she couldn't say that. It would be bad for morale to criticize him before they'd even set off, as well as unprofessional. Besides, Marien would probably take one look at his face and swoon. Not that he was handsome. Marien just had a thing for fair men.

Rei shrugged. "Like most nobles who don't have anything to do with the army. Probably can't tell a sword from a fireplace poker. But it should be fine."

Marien rolled her eyes impatiently. "Yes, but what does he look like? Alia said he's even handsomer than the king!"

Rei snorted. "Prepare yourself for the disappointment, then."

Hanna looked up from the ledgers she was trying to make sense of. "But you're biased. We all know you have a thing for the king, Rei."

"I don't have a thing for the king, I just have eyes," she retorted.

"I'll just have to see for myself tomorrow," Marien said decidedly. A few minutes later, she asked, "Do you think he'll get married soon?"

"Who, Lord Zohar?" Rei asked incredulously. _Who would want to marry him? _

"No, the king, silly!"

She got into bed and rolled over to face the wall since two of the lanterns were still lit. "One of these days, I'm sure he'll have to."

"It would be so exciting to see a royal wedding. There hasn't been one in ages… oh, sorry Rei! Good night!"

"Night," she murmured. She stayed awake awhile longer, wondering what kind of woman would become his queen. Probably someone known for her cleverness and political acumen. She would be serious and hardworking, as duty-driven as the king himself. Or perhaps she would be dizzyingly accomplished, the perfect hostess who could wrap all the men around her finger and win over all the women. She would be graceful, of course, and elegant beyond belief.

* * *

Rei struggled to contain her astonishment at the three carriages and two heavily loaded wagons that awaited them at the western gate. "What – what is this?" she demanded.

A single wagon followed her party of fifteen, carrying their packs and provisions.

The window to the lead carriage opened, and she rode forward, prepared to do battle. "Are those all of your worldly possessions?"

"No, only a fraction, I'm afraid." Zohar peered out at her, bleary-eyed.

She hid a satisfied smile. Not so smug in the mornings, was he?

"We can't travel so heavily."

"It's essential."

"It's dangerous," she corrected in an undertone.

"It's part of the show," he replied, equally quietly.

Rei sighed as her horse shifted, sensing her annoyance. "Send one of the carriages back. Otherwise we won't be able to guard you properly."

"Fine."

She stared at him. "That's it? No pleading, no complaints, no more clever barbs?"

"I'm not a morning person." He gave a curt order to someone she couldn't see inside the carriage. The door opened, and a moment later the last carriage went trundling back towards the stables.

Rei turned back to the window, but Zohar had already closed it and pulled the velvet curtains shut.

* * *

As she predicted, Marien was disgustingly admiring of Zohar's looks. They stopped at a posting house for the noon meal, but since the weather was nice, most of the guards ate outside. Rei sent two of them in to keep an eye on Zohar. From the send-off the maids gave them, she suspected that he had been flirting with them nonstop during the meal. He was also late.

In the evening, they descended on an inn, and Rei watched as Zohar swooped down on the hapless innkeeper with a list of demands. His servants ran back and forth between his rooms and the carriages, retrieving things he apparently couldn't be deprived of for a single night. Well, it was their problem, not hers.

She was setting her pack down by the bed she would be sharing with Marien when Yuriy shuffled over. She eyed him warily, knowing from his hesitation that she wasn't going to like the news.

He brushed his thick brown hair out of his eyes, stalling.

"Cut your hair," she ordered automatically. She had to tell him to do it about every other month.

"Yes, Captain. Look… you'll have to take the room next to his. Lord Zohar's, I mean."

"Why?" she demanded.

"He doesn't have any manservants. All of his staff are women. They can't come in here."

The guards would be sleeping in two rooms. One of them had seven men, the other three men and four women. Apparently it was fine for the guards to sleep in mixed quarters, but the world would fall into disarray if a woman unaffiliated with the army set foot in that room at night.

"But – but there'll be a guard posted outside his room every night, they can just…" Rei didn't bother to finish the sentence. The guard couldn't leave his post to summon her. That could give someone the opportunity to assassinate Zohar. Not that the assassin or his employer wouldn't have some of her sympathies, but she couldn't allow it to happen under her watch.

She moved her things to the empty room, then rapped on Zohar's door.

The girl who let her in wasn't the same one from the palace, but she was equally pretty.

When she had left them alone, Rei accused, "You did this on purpose!"

"Obviously," he said in a bored tone, not looking up from the book he was reading.

She paused, stymied by his agreeing with her. She had expected smooth excuses, practiced denial, and so on. "What?"

Zohar glanced up. "There will be times we need to have a private conversation, and this is the easiest way of going about it. Besides, you do remember what roles we'll be assuming, don't you?"

"Yes. I just thought we wouldn't have to begin until we reached Farniss."

"That wouldn't be very convincing to all the eyes that are watching us, would it? Think of this as laying the groundwork." He was about to go back to his reading, but then he asked, "Can you read Farnissan?"

"Obviously," she drawled, imitating him.

Zohar held the open book out to her. "Read it out loud."

"What, you don't believe me?"

"Just read it, please."

Rei read the first two paragraphs, then tossed the book back to him. "Satisfied?"

He smiled as he caught it with one hand. "Whoever taught you Farnissan had an atrocious accent. But you're much faster at reading than I am. Good, this will be useful once we arrive. But we'll have to work on your pronunciation. Let's start tomorrow night."

She turned to leave, but she couldn't help asking, "Do you sleep with _all_ of your servants?"

"Just the pretty ones," he said absentmindedly, turning the page.

"But they're all pretty."

"Exactly."

* * *

"Why don't you like him?" Marien asked curiously when they were on the road again.

They were the advance guard today, riding ahead of their larger party to scope out conditions ahead. She kept her voice down as she said, "I just don't like people like him."

"People like him? There's more than one? If so, you need to introduce me."

Rei had to smile at that.

Her friend said, "Really, though. What's not to like?"

"Have you seen how he orders everyone around, can't go a pace without all his fine things–"

Marien held up her hand to halt the diatribe. "Almost all the nobles we've guarded act like that. He's no worse than average."

Rei said heatedly, "He's just this parasite who doesn't have anything better to do with his time than wear fancy clothes and flirt with anything that wears a skirt! He wouldn't last two seconds without an entourage, but he thinks he's cleverer and better than every other living thing in the world."

She could tell by her friend's expression that they would just have to agree to disagree. Everything about him just rubbed her the wrong way. He exuded arrogance like flowers did fragrance. She'd thought she was well shot of superficial, callous noblemen who didn't care about anyone but themselves when she had defied her father and joined the king's guard, but fate kept throwing them in her way.

For the next few days, an uneasy truce prevailed between the two of them – uneasy for her, at least; Zohar always appeared to be ease, laughing ironically at the world from his comfortable carriage.

At night, they practiced reading and conversing in Farnissan. Sometimes he briefed her on the members of the Farnissan court and the current political situation. Rei knew the basics, of course, but it was more difficult to keep up with recent developments from within the guard. She had to admit he was very well-informed. But he also had a deplorable habit of telling her how attractive each of the women were considered during his running commentary. She had tried to get him to stop, but of course he never listened to her.

She had no idea where the impulse had come from, but once she had offered to teach him the basics of hand-to-hand combat or using a blade. He had thanked her but refused, smilingly. She told herself she wasn't surprised he didn't want to risk any damage to his pretty face.

During the day, Rei had her hands full coordinating their travel, setting the watch schedule, and making sure everything ran smoothly. She had a good group of men and women with her, but put fifteen people on the road together for practically every hour of the day, three weeks straight, and tensions were bound to arise. Aside from the organizational element, a large part of managing the guard effectively was knowing if, when, and how to step in and break things up.

The responsibilities and challenges of the life she had chosen were worlds away from the one she had been born into, and so were the conditions. They had a fairly luxurious assignment now, traveling with a nobleman who preferred to stop at only the highest quality inns, but on other missions, Rei had come to experience hunger, deprivation, and debilitating fear. She had been sick, injured, and exhausted to the point of collapse, all while learning what it meant to keep going or risk being left behind.

Still, there were times when she recognized the similarities. She didn't have to keep up with the fashions and the madly shifting landscape of personal and political alliances, but there were subtle features of the chain of command she had to know. Which commanders got along and which didn't; how much leeway she had with orders with one officer and not the other; who treated their troops well and who didn't; who was in favor and who was likely to get demoted, and so on. Learning to handle the friendly rivalries among the women of the court and flirtations of the men bore some resemblance to her present duty, but at times, things were much more straightforward in the guard. Rei didn't have to wear elbow-length silk gloves while she was asserting her authority. Sometimes all it took was trouncing someone a couple of times in a very satisfying practice session.

* * *

"Lord Zohar wants a word, Captain."

As Yuriy splashed up beside her, Rei glanced ahead at the long line of riders, carriages, and wagons. Sure enough, an imperious arm clothed in peach silk had emerged from one of the carriages.

When she reached the window, he said, "Let's stop for the night. I'm tired."

"I'd planned to be on the road for another two hours."

He complained loudly, "It's stuffy and hot in here. I'm getting carriage sick, and I'm _bored_." While he was speaking, he unbuttoned and rebuttoned his left cuff twice. It was the signal they had decided upon for "It's important."

"All right." She wheeled around and gave the order to the others.

Within an hour of their arrival, she heard an unfamiliar, throaty laugh coming from his room. A woman's laugh. It was followed shortly thereafter by the sounds of vigorous movement on the mattress. This was the "important thing" he had to do? She stalked out of the room, fuming.

* * *

Two days later, he demanded they stop in the middle of the morning so he could pick flowers. _Flowers_. Again, he used the "it's important" sign.

She hadn't had a chance to chew him out over the last incident, mostly because she had been avoiding him. But she was definitely going to have words with him tonight, and they weren't going to be pleasant ones.

Rei stood on the edge of the clearing, watching as he strolled around the meadow, the picture of a man of leisure while they all waited on him. Her stomach clenched as she watched him present a handful of wildflowers to Marien, who accepted them with delight.

It was an assorted handful of pretty weeds: tiny buttercups, speckled pink flowers, wide-petaled orange blossoms with black centers. They looking nothing like the elegant hothouse bouquets she had once received, but something about Zohar's practiced smile and smooth flourish reminded her of another man with shining blond hair, another moment when a man had given a dewy-eyed young woman flowers.

She had been fifteen, thrilled to receive the gigantic bouquet of perfumed white lilies tied with a violet ribbon and already arranged in an elegant crystal vase. They were magnificent, but she treasured them not for their beauty but because they had come from him.

Two days later, summoned by the sharp noise of shattering glass, and her maid had rushed in to see the flowers lying in a messy heap amidst the crystal shards. Rei stepped over them, the tears in her eyes blinding her as her slipper bruised a delicate alabaster petal lying in a pool of rapidly spreading water. Her satisfaction at sending the vase crashing to the tiles warred with the sickening taste of betrayal.

Kaiden had been her confidante, her friend, and the first man she had dreamed of marrying. He had been the only one she could be herself with, and around him, she had felt grown up and lovely and important, not a tiresome girl ignored by her father. He had been the one who had listened to her, who had taught her how to dance, who had repeated everything important thing she had ever told him to her father.

* * *

Over the next week, Rei watched grimly as the flirtation between Zohar and Marien heightened, reached its peak, and inevitably cooled off, leaving her friend red-eyed and quiet.

That, a second request to stop for flowers, an afternoon riding in sleeting rain, and the discovery that she and Zohar would have to share adjoining rooms for the night put her in a very bad mood indeed.

She stalked into his room, interrupting him in the middle of placing a little ceramic vase filled with white and blue flowers in the window.

He raised his eyebrows as he lit a long wax taper and set it next to the flowers, illuminating the entire windowpane. "You've been upset with me, Captain."

"Who wouldn't be? You waste time; you're careless and irresponsible and–"

"If this is about Marien, you may as well save your breath. You can't tell me your friend seriously expected a proposal of marriage. She's dallied with noblemen before. That's why I specifically requested her as part of my guard."

This was new to her, and infuriating because she hadn't known about it. "You mean you _planned_ this? Is everyone just a plaything to you?"

He settled into a cushioned chair and poured himself a drink from a steaming pitcher. "I never hurt her heart, only her pride. She'll recover soon enough, Rei."

He paused, then added quietly, "I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't needed to."

"Why was it necessary? Unless you still have your doubts about whether I can pull this off."

He grinned at her. "Jealous?"

"You wish," she snapped.

Zohar laughed and poured another cup of mulled cider, handing it to her with a wave towards an empty chair. "My dear captain, no one would believe that I would only take one lover along this journey. The watchers must be convinced, after all."

"What about back in Inata?" She thought about referring to "the woman with the throaty voice" but thought he would probably just laugh at her some more.

"Inata?" He frowned, then comprehension dawned. "I was meeting a contact of mine. She can only get away from her work at certain hours, but the information she has access to is invaluable."

"Did you…?"

He smiled and got to his feet. Walking over to the bed, he pressed his hand on the mattress several times, simulating the noise she had heard. "It's just an excuse. And it muffles our voices quite well, in case anyone might be listening in."

Rei sat, thinking and sipping the cider slowly as Zohar began shuffling through a sheaf of papers. Half of them he subsequently burned, inspecting them carefully to make sure all the writing had been obscured. It was rather boring to watch, so she turned her eyes to the flowers sitting in the window.

"A message?" she asked finally.

He glanced up, then followed the direction of her gaze. "Yes, of course."

"You know, this would go a lot more smoothly if you just told me what you were up to."

"You don't like being told things," Zohar contradicted her. "You like to figure things out for yourself."

She blinked at him, surprised by his astuteness.

"Besides, your natural reaction was useful. Anyone watching us would clearly see me irritating the captain of my guard with frivolous delays and outlandish requests."

Rei sighed. She might never agree with his methods, but she had to admit they had a certain irrefutable logic. "Why did you bait me when we first met?"

Zohar rose from where he had been crouched by the fireplace, dusting the blackening ash from his palms. "You didn't want to go on this mission. I made you want to, if only to prove it to me. And yourself, of course."

She got out of the chair. Time to go check on the guard and make sure the axle that had broken that afternoon would be fixed by morning. "We'll encounter the Western Reaches tomorrow and cross the border into Farniss by nightfall."

He nodded. "Try to get a good night's rest, captain. I'm sure all this being angry at me has been very tiring for you."

"I'm certainly laying all the blame at your feet. And whoever heard of having adjoining rooms? Ridiculous set up for an inn," Rei muttered on her way out.

As he started laughing again, she added, "I'll have you know, I sleep with a knife. Several of them."

"Sounds uncomfortable," he replied, the mirth clear in his eyes.

"If you don't believe me, I'd be happy to give you a demonstration."

"Is that an invitation?"

"You're hateful," she said, but she didn't bother infusing the words with much venom.

"Rei. I won't open the door."

His voice was serious, and she could see no trace of his customary sardonic smile on his face. "I know."

* * *

In spite of her doubts, she had slept deeply until Marien had woken her for the first morning shift. She was fresh and well-rested, yet all of her senses were tingling unpleasantly. So far their journey had been largely uneventful in spite of Zohar's constant references to watchers, but she didn't like the terrain they were passing through. In this hilly part of the Western Reaches, the footing was poor and visibility was limited. Jagged rocks speared through the thin, tired soil on either side of the path, and the ubiquitous dust clouds caked and irritated their throats.

Rei was about to give the signal to break for the noon meal when they rounded a bend and what they'd taken as small hills started moving. The men concealed there threw off their tan cloaks, their weapons already unsheathed and held at the ready.

Rei shouted the alarm, her right arm reaching behind her shoulder to her full quiver while the left went to her bowstring. Before she could release the first arrow, small bundles thudded to the ground by her horse's hooves, and thick, black clouds of smoke masked everyone and everything from sight.

It was chaos. The air was filled with eye-smarting, choking blackness. People shouted left and right, behind her, ahead of her; she couldn't tell if they were friend or foe. The horses reared and plunged, and she heard yells of pain and fear all around her.

She made her way to the last place she remembered seeing the carriage, blundering into Yuriy along the way. It was lucky she recognized him before her sword found him. She felt her way along the carriage door by touch, seized the handle, and yanked Zohar out.

She shoved him at Yuriy, who hauled him onto his horse. "Get him away from here!" she ordered.

She could hear Zohar protesting, but she rode away from them, shielding their escape as best she could. She killed four of the attackers, but she lost her horse and her belt and boot knives before the dust cleared.

When the harsh winds blew away the last of the stinging black smoke, she saw that she had lost even more than that. Her throat smarted from the tears she refused to cry as she walked across the blood-soaked dirt. Thirteen of her brothers and sisters in arms lay where they had fallen, taking many of their attackers with them. Marien. Hanor. Boyd. Lilias. Perrin. The names went on and on.

She couldn't even stay to bury them. She knew whoever had sent the attackers would be back to make sure the job was done. She wasn't even sure all of them had been accounted for. She took what knives she could find to replace the ones she'd lost and three packs of dried provisions from one of their overturned wagons, then set off in the direction she had sent Yuriy and Zohar.

It wasn't long before she found them beneath a rocky overhang. Yuriy lay slumped against the striated rock, a dark stain spreading down his side. Zohar crouched beside him, a drawn dagger in each hand. His lips were drawn in a thin, angry line, but he relaxed slightly when he saw her.

"Is he–?"

"Yes. I'm sorry," Zohar confirmed, his voice husky. "He fought very bravely."

Rei nodded, looking at the last five members of the ambush party that lay beyond them. It was easier than looking at Yuriy, whose hair was always too long, who sang loudly and out of tune, who had always been annoyingly, ridiculously infatuated with her.

"So you can fight."

He shrugged, the bitter twist of his mouth self-deprecating. "Not well enough, apparently."

She shook her head. "We could have protected you from ordinary dangers. Bandits, even – the Western Reaches can never entirely be cleared out. There are too many hiding places here. But these were no bandits."

"No," he agreed. "They were too well-trained. Well-outfitted and highly organized. Mercenaries, you think?"

She nodded. "Too risky to use anyone from your own guard. They might be recognized. Anyway, let's get moving."

"You're going in the wrong direction," Zohar said quietly. "The mission isn't done."

Rei looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "We should turn back now."

"No. We barely made it through that pass alive with fifteen guards, the two of us alone certainly won't make it. But this side of the Western Reaches will be easier for the two of us to travel in. There's more ground cover, and it's better patrolled by the Farnissan army. We should reach moderately safe territory in a few days."

She frowned. "Assuming we manage to pull that off, how am I ever going to get you back home safely?"

"We'll go to Farniss and send word to Endy from there. He'll send another squadron to escort us home. Better make it two or three, actually."

"What if the assassins came from Farniss?" she argued.

"It wasn't the Farnissans. Too obvious, too easy for them to get blamed for this."

Rei looked around. She was sure she heard something… The tension at her temples eased slightly when one of their horses trotted into view, and she ran over to grab its dangling reins. "Someone's trying to stir up trouble between the two kingdoms. Let's see if we can find out who it is."

* * *

They shared one horse until they were fortunate enough to find another of their mounts wandering in the foothills. Most of the time, they rode in silence. Rei was surprised that Zohar didn't complain at the rapid pace she set, the very few breaks they took, and the suboptimal meals they ate, but she was grateful for it. She spent her time trying to keep her mind off the deaths of her friends by focusing on the most pressing details at hand: endlessly she plotted and re-plotted their route, consulting the map she had committed to memory, and she was always on the lookout for danger.

The nights were a chilly contrast to the hot days, but she didn't dare light a fire that could give away their position. They shared a single horse blanket and slept back to back. In the morning, he complained that his hair was hopelessly tangled, that the river water was cold, and that he smelled like horse, but he never bothered her at night. She even suspected that he complained mainly to give her an excuse to snap at him, which never failed to improve her mood.

The first night, they didn't talk, exhausted by exertion and sorrow. The second night, Rei told him about the friends she had lost. She needed to talk, and he was the only one there. Somehow, it didn't seem strange, and he made none of his cutting remarks.

"Boyd was always threatening to leave the guard, but all his friends were in it, so of course he never did bring himself to do it. I wish he had. Hanor and his wife were expecting their second child. They have a daughter already, the sweetest girl who didn't look anything like him, except for the nose… Lilias was going to be married in the winter to a carpenter's apprentice. He was building her the most beautiful home, and now–" Her voice caught before she could finish, and she didn't get to tell him about Perrin's beautiful singing voice.

"It's all right to cry, Rei. I've wept for friends before."

She said fiercely, "I'll cry when I find out who's responsible for this."

* * *

The third night, she was childishly irritated at him for stealing the blanket during the previous night and eating the last of the sweetberries, so she refused to speak to him. The fourth night, he initiated the conversation.

"Your father named you to be a queen," he observed quietly.

She glared at him, even though he probably couldn't see her doing so. Only the faint, pearly light of the stars relieved the oppressive blackness of the night. "Well, I can't help what idiotic ideas he gets in his head, can I?"

"I should say not, considering you couldn't have had much say in the matter, being only a few hours old at the time."

She smiled despite herself. "Do you know my father?"

"Oh yes. Don't like him, of course, but I wouldn't want him as my enemy."

Her laugh was soft and bitter. "He would probably say the same thing about you."

"Really? You don't think he'd like me?"

It was hard to read his expression, but she thought he was genuinely surprised. "I did, at first," she admitted. "Now I don't."

"Then I'll take that as a compliment."

"Yes."

To her relief, he changed the subject. "It really is too bad that I'll have to burn this robe once we reach civilization. It was one of my favorites."

Even though she suspected he was at least half-joking, Rei sighed. "What is it with you and your attachment to _things_?"

Zohar was silent for a few minutes, and she wondered if he was going to bother answering her. Finally, he began, "You must know that I wasn't born to nobility."

"Yes." Her father had made sure she knew everyone who was anyone, and how they were connected. Zohar had not become a person of importance until after she had renounced that life and joined the guard.

He spoke carefully. "When you joined the guard and gave up your family's protection, you went, in a sense, from having quite a lot to having…less. In many ways, of course, you had more, but in the material things, less. You agree?"

"I do."

"You might say I had the opposite trajectory." He paused, and then he said with a completely different accent, "I grew up on the streets. Never knew my dad, and my mum died when I was three."

Rei barely smothered her gasp. She recognized the long vowels and clipped consonants of the fishing villages along the kingdom's southern coastline. For generations now the villages had been doing poorly, suffering from overfishing, crime, and poverty. "What did you do?"

He smiled grimly, returning to the polished voice she was used to him using. "Oh, many things. You won't want to hear about them, but thievery and blackmail, mainly. I never had anything of my own. Just my name, my wits, and my devastatingly good looks, of course. It's taken me a great deal of effort to get to where I am now. I couldn't read until I was twelve."

She could hear amused exasperation in his voice as he continued, "Anyway, I tried to rob a mark way above my abilities. It turned out for the best, but I thought I was going to lose my hand there."

"Who was it?"

"The general."

"_General_ _Kyran_?"

"None other. He took me back to the capital with him. He insisted that I bathe regularly, get rid of the lice, and learn my letters. He still tells me I'm wasted at court, but the army shouldn't have all the nice things now, should it? After all, they've got you. Next time I see him, I'll tell him to think of it as a fair trade."

Zohar sighed as he rearranged the pile of dry leaves that was currently serving as his pillow and tossed away a rock that was doing its best to drill into his skull. "That's my longwinded way of explaining my fondness for things to you. Does it make sense?"

"Yes… All those clothes, your apartments, the food, the power you wield at court… they're the most tangible sign of how far you've come. Like what my uniform and my rank mean to me."

"Precisely. Except my things are much more beautiful and precious, of course."

She elbowed him in the ribs, hearing the smirk in his voice. "Shut up. Don't insult the guard, or I'll tell Kyran on you. I'm going to sleep now."

But a few minutes later, she asked, "Zohar?"

He groaned and rolled over. "Weren't you going to sleep?"

"Did you really mean it when you said you could make me fall in love with you?"

He laughed. "Wishful thinking."

* * *

Somehow, they made it to the capital of Farniss without killing each other or being set upon by more assassins. Before they presented themselves at the palace, they stopped at a counting house, the messengers' guild, and the tailors, in that order. When Zohar was at last convinced they were suitably dressed (lamenting all the while that in their haste, they were consigned to wear ready-made clothes instead of specially tailored ones), he led the way to the palace.

"Do we still have to pretend to be lovers?" Rei asked under her breath, watching the crowd ceaselessly for possible threats.

Zohar put his hand to his chest melodramatically. "It's still a pretense for you? I'm heartbroken. I won't be able to go on now, knowing the truth about your feelings for me."

"Be serious," she hissed.

"Very well. I think at this point, as there are only two of us, we will need both of our efforts to make the mission a success. It won't do any good to have you tied to me as my bodyguard. We can't always be in the same place at the same time, and I'll be safe enough from direct attacks once we reach the palace. But to gain entrée to the places we'll need to go, you will either need to present yourself as my lover or as a representative of your house."

Which she had renounced. But neither of her families had renounced her, which meant she could still reclaim her privileges. She swallowed. "Which would you prefer?"

He shrugged. "It's your choice, Rei. But I won't deny the latter would be better."

"I know. Then we'll drop the charade."

They rode in silence until they reached the long promenade leading to the main entrance of the palace.

"Have you ever been here before?" she asked him.

"Yes."

The abnormally curt response stirred her interest. "What happened?"

"Talking, dancing, more talking, riding, yet more talking, watching interminably long plays and concerts, and did I mention talking? The usual, you know all about what happens at courts."

"What _really _happened, Zohar?"

He sighed in disgust. "Fine. There was this woman–"

She had his measure now. "Only the one?"

"Well, of course there were dozens, all of them _breathlessly_ in love with me, but I only gave my full attention to this one. Sort of."

Tentatively, she asked, "She didn't return your feelings?"

He glanced at her, then back at the magnificent columns they were passing between. "You know how you felt about me at the start of this journey?"

"Yes."

"Imagine that, but multiplied tenfold."

"Ah. But you still…"

Zohar made a minute adjustment to his sleeves. Next, she knew, he would fix his hair.

"Just one last question. Will I meet her?" she asked.

He gave her his most ironic smile yet. "Oh, definitely. We're here to see if she'll be a suitable bride for Endy."

Her mouth dropped open. "You fell in love with the princess of Farniss?"

Later that afternoon, Rei had the chance to lay eyes on the princess. She watched the sizzling look that passed between Zohar and the woman with the serious blue eyes and wistful smile, and she laughed inwardly. No matter what Zohar said, she didn't think Endy was going to be marrying this princess anytime soon.

_Fin_


End file.
